Black Love, Assassinated- On Cloud No. 6
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The following comments about religious topics does not refer to any religion in particular.
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The course of true love never did run smooth;
But either it was different in blood-
Or else misgraffed in respects of years-
Or else it stood upon the choice of friends-
Or, if there was sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
Making it momentary as a sound,
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream,
Brief as the lightning in the collied night
-Lysander, A Midsummer Night's Dream by Shakespeare
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Why number 6? My fellow housemates had often asked. Yet I would only shake my head stubbornly and keep my lips tight shut. Hence it would really be a treat for you people; yes you people out there to enjoy this answer as I had a sudden urge to say it all out. Listen to it clearly though, for I would never know when the next time would be when my lips depart to talk about this again, so here goes.
Why number 6, you ask.
It is because that would be how I would describe life here. They called it cloud no. 9, you see, yet I have never felt that the term was appropriate, and it did happened that the number 6 was visually upside down of the number 9.
Life here had been the exact opposite.
You see, I live in heaven, and had been a resident for a little more than a year, and will remain as a permanent resident here.
They said that life after life would be much more enjoyable than the one that you had when you were alive- the fluffy clouds, the graceful wings, and the gleaming golden rays that streamed through the golden gates. Part of it was true, other than for the wings, yet it seemed to me that those people in the places of worship had just left out all the rest of the rubbish. Rubbish, because they had as much as junk as those food does to one's body.
God had assumed it would be a privilege and honour for those who had lived a splendid life or died a glorious death to live in what he had created above Earth. He had created afterlife and heaven, and hell which I had been able to get away from, to reward us for keeping a clean sheet of good conduct all these while.
Yet he had not realise that sometimes death was the reason which made the ending of life much more enjoyable, as it was the one that people had feared and yearned for at the same time, so it was a pleasure to finally see it all ending. He had not realised, that afterlife was not a reward, a privilege, or an honour at all. It was worse than being stark alive.
The reason was simple for my reasoning, which you would most probably have dismissed as some warped mindset of a wannabe eighteen-year-old, and as my mom would have nagged if I was still alive, that I was too young to truly apprehend the facts of life.
In fact, the cause of my agony had not been anyone's fault as it was solely mine. I had been the one who refuse to let go of the past and kept looking under my feet to check out how the people down there were coping.
Not very well I guess. Let me tell you a little story.
You see I have a close friend whom my family had adopted as my sister who witnessed me death. Nothing much, you would have said, but it was the fact that she was involved in the incident and managed to escape from the gates of hell. Or heaven. I had not, and never, blamed her for my death. In fact, I was glad that it was me who had been killed by the monster instead of her. How I wish to take back my words now, though.
She cried at times when there was no one around, but less frequently as time went by. I had thought that she had began to recover, to get over everything, yet as time goes by, I realised that it was just because my stepsister had been too numbed and too used to the pain to even shed a tear at all. Her tears had run dry like a desert. That was what, I found most heart-wrenching.
It was not, really, as no one had expected and would be able to defend each other from the monster, the Akuma. She had not been able to stop my death, that I had not mind. What I had minded was that I was not able to be there to hug and comfort her body that had been racking with convulsions of grief tightly when she mourned for my death. I had not been there to wipe those swollen and red eyes of her when we both blamed fate, blamed God, blamed that darn Akuma.
It had not come as a surprise when she nodded her head in consent to the crimson-haired man. She was to be an exorcist, and I am proud of her. Honestly. I had assumed that this change in path of life would be able to allow her to recover from the tragedy and stand up straight again.
But fate is like Cupid who twirls and whirls the world around to make the people living in it all confused and miserable.
She, my dearest friend, had to leave him. I had totally casted that thought out of my mind all this while. The way they looked at each other, treated each other, and the cold way she regarded him was obvious enough. The more she felt for someone, the less affection she will display. It was a way to protect herself and the people around her, I realised. Her parents had hurt her enough to make her withdraw to the innermost circle of friends. And I had been proud to be part of it, really. She had always shaken her head and rolled her black eyes whenever I tried to link her up with Mr. Mikk. This was the 19th century after all so the age gap would be no problem, I had tried to explain. Yet she would only laugh it off and mask her emotions with a weak smile before diverting the conversation to something totally unrelated.
She had been concealing it all this while and I supposed my death really broke down all the walls that she had been building and caused massive flooding. Thereafter, Mr. Mikk had been the one who took over the role and comforted her on the night of the funeral. They were interested in each other, it was stark obvious the way it was. The couple had met earlier on as strangers and had felt a certain affection of sort- she had told me the following night when we were under the dim glow of the night lamp. It was because he had later become her teacher that she tried to act nonchalant to it. And now she is dissolving in tears after having to leave him again. Her body may be with her, but her eyes were crying over the heart that had been left with him.
Fuyu, Fuyu, Fuyu, my dearest friend, sister and buddy. Fuyu Nakashima Black. Raven.
Why, why did you push him away when you were soaked with tears, pushed him away just when the two of you had finally began to start a spark by deciding to leave him, and pushed him yet again this time? It must have hurt, ain't it? I'm sorry, so sorry for not being to offer you shoulder to dry your tears with, a listening ear to absorb all those agony and complaints. What I have now is only eyes to look after you and be there for you always. I can only be here in the heaven to pray for your well-being and happiness. Forget him perhaps, but not too much dear. You had made a wise decision so carry on with it well.
I had seen witnessed and went weak on my knees when you made those marks on your wrists in an attempt to join me here. Please, please don't try it again. I would not be able to take another death again. You had been a strong girl all this while, please I beg you, continue to carry on and live life to the fullest.
For the reason that I, Chloe Mylene, will be there for you forever, and so will he.
The one who wrapped the bandage over you raw wounds, the one who had made sure you were safe from all dangers, the one who had tried to kill you but never managed to.
He loves you deeply, sister.
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Watashi ga Aishita Sensei!
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As the first sun ray streamed into the room, the female exorcist quickly got off the bed and dressed up. She had not been able to sleep the whole night. It was as if her hand, her whole body, still smelled of his deep alluring scent, of which consisted of a perfect blend of Cortia, cigarette, and her love for him. Shut it. Her eyes which dark circles she had covered with lots of makeup, took a long look at the motionless body, except for his steady breathing, and apologised. Apologised for she had disturbed his sleep last night, for walking off just like that, and perhaps for making him worry- if he did. With careful movement, she attempted to pull up the blanket over her comrade higher as the chill from the previous night was still lingering in the room. Then again, it was only an attempt after all. The Japanese had jolted up from his sleep immediately and grabbed her hand instinctively.
"Morning..." muttered Fuyu as she tried to mask what she had tried to do just a few seconds ago.
Kanda narrowed his eyes speculatively as he studied her expression with a sidelong glance. Cursing a little, he let go off his grip and put on his coat matter-of-factly while Fuyu looked away. He had slept topless, as usual.
Just then, the black golem buzzed a little.
"Bzzz... Kanda? Zzz... Fuyu?" The golem spoke in a voice that both exorcists recognised immediately. "You are to meet up with Daisy Barry from wherever you are now and escort General Tiedoll. Zzz..."
The two responded immediately to the order, and Fuyu could only sigh to the fact that she had to give out the apples to the passengers on the train.
Perhaps, it would always better not to take anything away from what it originally was.
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A/N: I'm really sorry really sorry for not posting this earlier- like last week 'cause I had really been busy. Sorry. Reviews are low, so please do criticise my work and such so I can improve. Exams this coming Monday- wish me luck. ):